The Downpour
by Bob Elder
Summary: After the war, Rachel has a secret


I wrote this recently, and I thought that it was good enough to share with all of you. I suppose the one thing you need to know while reading this short piece is that the war is over, all the Animorphs but Rachel and Marco are dead and gone. During the last part of the war, before the Andalites came, Marco was the only free Animorph left, and Rachel was infested. 

The Downpour

--By Bob Elder

The rain floated down, a soft misty spray of water soaking the earth. Rachel rested her chin in the palms of her hands, watching the water sift through the air. She was dry and safe under the overhang of the front porch, but her eyes moved over the grass, watching droplets of water cling to the thin green blades. With a sigh, Rachel shifted on the hard white wicker chair. The window behind her opened, and she could feel the cool air of the house. "Honey, why don't you come in now?"

"Nah." Rachel didn't turn around. "I think I'm going to stay out here for a bit longer."

Her mother frowned, pressing her lips into a tight line. "All right. Dinner is in a few minutes. Do you want-?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Ah, please Rach? I made your favorite." Naomi scratched at the window screen with a fingernail. "You know how much you like charred burgers and burned fries."

Rachel allowed herself a small smile, hidden from her mother's sight. "As much as I appreciate it Mom…I'm just not hungry, okay?" She picked at a loose piece of wicker. "I'll come in later, when I'm in the mood to eat."

With a sigh, Rachel's mother said, "Fine then. Jordan and Sara and I will just have to eat by ourselves. I won't bother you again, but please come in soon. It's getting dark."

"We'll see, Mom."

The window slid down, and Rachel leaned back in the chair. Rain was peaceful. Not too many people realized that. Sure, enough people say that rain is nice, but Rachel got the impression that very few of them actually sat outside to appreciate it. 

She took a deep breath, savoring the smell of the air, and wished that her mother would actually let her sit out where she could feel the spray. Peace was what she needed now. If she closed her eyes really tight, and concentrated on the sound of the rain lightly tapping the concrete, Rachel could almost bring herself to forget. She needed to concentrate on something outside of her, because when she did, she could almost forgive herself. But, no matter how much she tried to push things away, they always came back to her. 

As her memories flooded in, it felt as though her very soul writhed within her body. The corners of her mouth turned down, and small lines formed around her eyes. Pulling her gaze away from the misty twilight, Rachel looked at her hands. She supposed they were nice, as hands went. Her nails were perfectly trimmed, and her skin was smooth thanks to the moisturizing lotion…but as she brought them up in front of her face, they shook. Little tremors ran through them, and Rachel blinked hard as she made a fist. They wouldn't stop shaking. 

Oh, she was careful never to let her mother see. Lately she had been spending a lot of time with her hands in her pockets, or out of sight under the table, or balled up into a fist. It was only when she was absolutely alone, did she look at them, watch the way they shook. Rachel was fascinated with them. Fascinated with the way they moved on their own. 

Her hands were the only part of her that shook. If they shook because of all she'd seen, all she'd done, it was a wonder her entire body wasn't shaking. It felt like it should be. To Rachel, her very soul seemed to scream in agony. She smiled faintly, a wispy ghost of bitter mirth, and she turned her eyes back to the rain.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. Clasping her hands tightly, so they wouldn't move, she absently started to rock back and forth. Despite the humid, and wet, night she felt cold. So cold inside it was frightening. 

"Hey, Rachel? Do you mind if I come up?"

Her eyes moved to the speaker, whom she hadn't seen before he was at the bottom of the steps. She shrugged, a small movement that didn't give away too much. "Whatever you want, Marco."

"Thanks." He took the steps two at a time. "Man, it's wet out there. Can I sit?"

Rachel looked away. "If you want to."

Marco sat down in the other chair, and ran a hand through his hair. They sat quiet for a time, appreciating the soft sounds of the weather. But then, Marco sighed. "We should talk."

"About what?"

"You know what."

Rachel looked away again, blinking furiously. "Marco…I don't want to talk about it."

"It's healthy to talk about things that are upsetting. At least, that's what Cassie says…said."

"Don't you understand?" She looked him now, not caring if he saw her cry. "I _can't_ talk about it."

"But-"

"But nothing!" Rachel started to rock faster. "Don't you…" she sighed. "I suppose you don't."

"I won't know, if you won't tell me. Please?" Marco looked down at his own hands. "We were never good friends. But, Rachel…you're all I've got left now."

New tears slipped softly down her cheeks, and she looked away. "It's not that I don't want to. I just _can't_…" Rachel bit her lip, and wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. It was Marco's turn to look away, and he stayed silent for a long time. It grew darker, and the rain slowed to a slight drizzle. Even the clouds started to break apart. 

Biting on her lip, she took a deep breath. "Have you ever…" she suppressed a sob that was welling up. "Have you ever done something, so horrible, so absolutely terrible, that you just…" swallowing some air, Rachel closed her eyes. "I don't know how I stand it in here."

Marco blinked. "In where?"

"Inside my skin."

"Oh, Rachel. It wasn't you that did those horrible things. It was-"

"Don't even say it Marco." Rachel shifted, and she kept rocking. "I know what you're thinking. That, 'it wasn't me.' But what you don't understand Marco, is that when I killed somebody…" Marco opened his mouth, but shut it again once he realized he had finally gotten her talking. "Or even when I…ordered somebody's death…it _was_ me. They looked into _my_ eyes, and begged _me_ for mercy. And I...couldn't…"_didn't _"...give it to them. I pulled the trigger, every time. Can you fathom that? Probably not." Rachel closed her eyes. She left the worst part unsaid. It was best if even Marco didn't know her secret. He was right in saying that she was all he had. But what he hadn't said was that now all they had was each other. Nobody else knew even the smallest fraction of it all. 

"I can't begin to even imagine what happened to you. But I see it's effected you very deeply."

Rachel swallowed and, remarkably, had to fight to keep from laughing. "Astute as ever." 

The moon appeared, the first rays making their way through the broken clouds. Marco sighed again. "I miss you. I miss the old you. Where is Xena? She wouldn't be put down by all of this. She would fight, till she _could_ 'stand it inside her own skin."

"I did fight Marco. I did…but it was so..." She opened her eyes, and shot a quick glance at her companion's shady form, then looked back out into the near total darkness. Her insides twisted. "I can…" this time she really did sob, but she choked it off. "I see him when I'm awake. I dream about him when I'm asleep. I hardly sleep anymore…"

"Come on Rach…I miss them too. I know why you miss Tobias the most…but…please. He wouldn't want you like this."

_I know he wouldn't want me like this. He _loved_ me. But, this, is what I deserve. _"I'm sure he wouldn't." The silence stretched longer. "Do you…even…" she couldn't make the words form. But then, somehow, she said it. "I killed him, you know." There, a small part of it was out, but she wouldn't dare let him have any more. 

In the moonlight, Rachel thought she saw Marco sag in his chair. "I blame myself too…I always thought that I should have been there. If I was-"

He still didn't understand. "No, Marco…I…I." She blinked again, trying to find a scrap of peace in the emerging sounds of the night. "I…" her hand came up to touch her chest, and she didn't care that it was shaking. "_I_ killed him."

There was a silence again, only this time it wasn't comfortable. Marco seemed to be trying to find something to say, but nothing was coming out of his mouth. Finally he managed to get out, "No…Rachel, are you saying that _you_ killed him? Literally?"

She was crying so hard, she could barely nod her head. Rachel tried to give herself a mental kick. _This isn't the best place…oh Tobias…_but then emotion crashed into her thoughts. All the pain, and hurt and torment roared upwards. Marco was suddenly there, stroking her hair. "Shhh" Truthfully, he didn't even remember getting up out of his chair, but he thought he had just gotten a small inkling of what it had been like. Rachel rocked in his arms, tears flowing freely. 

She didn't hug him back, because her arms were wrapped around her legs. It was like the last spark of her humanity was slipping away, and if she hugged herself a little tighter, it wouldn't go. But, that was foolish. She knew she had lost her humanity a long time ago. 

Through the tears sliding down her face, Rachel said in a soft voice, "I hear his screams all the time."

"Shhh…I know."

"No...you don't. You can't." She pulled back, pressing herself against the wicker of the chair. 

Marco let go, his features shadowy in the moonlight. "I'm trying to. I don't want to push you. If you don't want to say any more…it's okay."

"Thanks Marco. That's really sweet of you."

"Hey, I'm a sweet kinda guy."

_Yes, you are. But even you, the closest friend I have left, wouldn't hug me if you knew the truth._ Rachel felt pulled to say something more. She couldn't just leave it hanging like this, so without thinking she said, "Having a yeerk in your head…it's sort of like having a pet." Immediately, she wished she hadn't spoken. They were the first words of a speech she had constructed…but it was too late. 

Marco leaned back, as if to try and get a good look at her in the dark. "What do you mean?" He sounded genuinely puzzled.

Don't say it, don'tsayit, _don'tsayit!_ "Well, after a while…it always seems like people tend to resemble their pets. And vice-a-versa." _Damnit_. She closed her eyes, wishing ten times harder than she had a moment before that she could take the words back. 

Marco frowned. "You're not thinking that you were like that yeerk, are you? You mustn't think that!"

"But-"

This time, he was the one that cut her off. "Look," his voice was stern and his eyes seemed to blaze in the moonlight. "You listen to me, Rachel. There is no way, no freaking way! That you will ever, _ever_, be like a yeerk! You are a beautiful, wonderful, special human being, who has been through a tremendous ordeal. Don't think that because, as an _in_voluntary host, you are in any way responsible for what that damn, dirty yeerk did!"

Rachel shut her eyes to block out his face. The shell that used to be her conscience screamed to tell him, but her mind screamed not to. "I suppose you're right Marco." She lied with a straight face, which surprised her. Perhaps it was because there were still tears leaking from her eyes that she couldn't bring up any more.He still didn't know…he didn't know her secret. It was a secret that really _did _make it hard to live in her own skin. When she passed by a mirror, Rachel couldn't look at her own face.

It happened after she was infested, although she supposed the potential for it was always there, deep down somewhere inside of her. After she had screamed and fought the yeerk for control, and yelled and cursed, once she was a prisoner, she had…_enjoyed_ it. Enjoyed what the yeerk was doing. In a twisted sort of way, she was almost proud to have gotten such a high ranking one. 

At first, she wouldn't admit it to herself. But her yeerk knew. He knew the rush she had when he killed somebody. He even knew that she liked it when they begged for mercy…and the yeerk exploited it. He laughed at her. He knew everything about her. And after his taunts, and her denials, she realized that he was right. It took a long time to admit it. But once she did…

"Hey, hey!" Marco had his hands on her shoulders, to trying to slow her down. "Why are you rocking so hard? Come on, settle down."

Rachel opened her eyes, they glistened with her thousands of unshed tears. "Why am I rocking?" This time she did laugh, it was a harsh and bitter sound. "I'm rocking because it hurts so badly, I can't sit still."

It was a long time before Marco left. 


End file.
